


Red Smoke

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Magic, BDSM, Death, Demons, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Polyamory, Trans Character, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7735975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto Koutarou is a fire, he burns bright, and hot, and loud, and fast. Everyone sees him, knows him, but no-one gets too close. After all, where there is fire, there is destruction, death, and ruin. In the end all a fire can do is destroy.<br/>------<br/>The Academy is a school for gifted Magic users, a place of learning, where students can flourish and reach their potential. Bokuto is a prodigy among the gifted, he's smart and friendly, a leader in the making. It's too bad there's a darkness shrouding him, hot and burning. </p><p>It's too bad he'll be dead before he graduates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to re write and re upload what I'd written for this story, originally called 'In The Distance There is Smoke'. I wasn't pleased with the quality of the writing after reading it back to myself, so here it is again, back and better than ever (I hope).

The first thing he knows is Akaashi’s voice, it’s soft and hoarse in the early morning so quiet he can barely make out the words through the thick fog of sleep that’s still wrapped around him. There’s the words ‘accident’ and ‘spell’ and ‘Bokuto’ – which is his name, he knows that much – but before he can decipher much of what Akaashi is saying he’s falling asleep again. Later he will pass it off as a strange dream, as something he'd made up. That's not the case. But for now he falls into a deeper slumber than before, the voices fading away into nothing.

It feels like he’s been sleeping forever.

 

* * *

      

Bokuto Koutarou is a fourth year at the Academy of the Arts. It means he’s seventeen and one of the eldest in his year and a prodigy under the Fukurodani Tower. He wields Fire and Water, Air and Earth, like he’s been connected to them his whole life. Can summon familiars with an ease that even some seventh years can’t achieve. He is a pride and joy for his teachers and the head of his Tower. Of course he’s not the only prodigy in the school but he’s a marvel nonetheless. Bokuto, they say, is sure to go on and achieve great things. He is sure to amaze everyone in the future.

People never realise what he’s sacrificed.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s twelve years old and his town is burning all around him, his parents are already dead. The fire is hot on his skin, flicking at the soles of his bare feet, burning the skin at the end of his toes. There is a stench in the air, the smell of rotten, burning flesh that makes him want to retch onto the ground but there is nothing in his stomach for him to empty. Bokuto is both in awe of the flames and terrified of them. He loves and hates them more than anything.

That feeling will never go away.

_Help Me. Help Me._

 

* * *

 

 

When he wakes up next it is warm and sunny around him. The blankets press heavy on his body and there is none of the thick fog from before, instead his mind is bright and clear and he thanks the world for it because waking up tired is perhaps the worst feeling in the world. Before anything else he notices that he's in the Infirmary and it is early afternoon, weak Autumn light filtering through the large, arched windows that line one wall of the Infirmary. They are more familiar to him than his own bedroom and he snorts at the thought, pretty sure that he's set a record for stays in the Infirmary. The last thing he remembers was that he was in the Duelling Ring and it had been late evening, just before dinner. It dawns on him then that he’d missed his favourite dinner of roast duck and rice and he pouts horribly despite knowing that the same dinner will be served again in a months time. Food is a very important part of Bokuto's life. Shaking away a pout he sits back in his bed, wondering how he’d ended up in the Infirmary (a voice that sounds dreadfully like Akaashi tacks a sarcastic ‘ _again’_  on to the end of that sentence and Bokuto huffs despite it being true). Barely late October and he’d landed in the Infirmary once more.

Bokuto grins and stretches, wriggles his fingers and toes, and forgets entirely about waking up that morning.

Instead he remembers the Duel.

There is nothing he loves more than Duelling, the thrill of it turns his insides into excited jelly and puts all his senses on high alert. Be it one on one or in a team effort, and he knows he’s the Ace of his age group. Fukurodani would be weak without him. Sure the fifth years and above have Ushijima Wakatoshi (a prodigy among prodigies) but he doesn’t count because he’s old, and brilliant, and terrifying. Oikawa and Kuroo are nothing like  _Bokuto_ , will never be anything like Bokuto. For a moment he allows himself to wallow in his own confidence and power and he ignores the voice in the back of his head that calls him a  _cheat_  and a  _liar_. Apparently Karasuno has a pair of second year Aces, who work in perfect harmony to form a terrifying duo but he’d yet to play against Karasuno’s freak set. Official tournament matches had yet to start for the season, and first years didn’t play except amongst themselves to relieve boredom and practice their magic. This was because as first years they belonged to no Tower yet. Bokuto knows that no matter how perfectly in syn they were that he was unlikely to be beaten. He's still excited though. After all, a challenge is always fun.

The Duel.

A duel against Kuroo, his best friend and his number one rival. If Kuroo had knocked him down no wonder he’d been out so long, because for a student from Nekoma (who were renowned for Defensive and subtle Magic) Kuroo sure could pack a punch. If there was anyone that Bokuto would call a proper challenge it was definitely Kuroo. It wasn't exactly the strength of his power (because Kuroo could cause pain if he wanted) but more his mind and reflexes. Strategy and quick thinking were Kuroo's gifts and it was why he'd managed to hand Bokuto his ass more than once despite Bokuto knowing he was far stronger in terms of raw power. Power was little use if you couldn't wield it effectively after all. If it wasn’t for the excellent Healers at their school, then he knew that the bruises would be far slower to fade.  

(Something tells him they’d still vanish quickly on  _his_ skin, but he shakes the thought away, there’s no time for that.)

Thinking back he remembers the sharp crack of glass on the ground and a sweet scent in the air. Of course Kuroo had used potions and Alchemy, Bokuto snorts aloud at the thought. 

Quite suddenly he's reminded that it’s early afternoon and yet no-one seems to be around, not even their resident Healer (read, mother) Takeda who, despite being from Karasuno, was one of the most proficient Healer’s the school had. It was a creepy feeling, being alone in the Infirmary and he wondered where everyone had gone. The students he could understand as classes ran till five and even then most people had clubs to join in with afterwards, but the lack of staff in the Infirmary unsettled him. Usually someone would be here. Maybe he’d woken during lunch break. There’d be a simple explanation, surely. There was nothing out of the ordinary here.

Golden eyes slipped shut for a moment. For a second Bokuto entertained the fountain of colours that shattered beneath his eyelids without a moment’s hesitation. Then his eyes snap back open and he feels like he's just fallen into an abyss.

 

* * *

 

Takeda is stood by his bed when he opens his eyes. His sudden reappearance startles Bokuto enough to make him let out a croaked, half choked, screech as he stares at the Healer. Takeda seems just as confused at Bokuto's reaction as Bokuto himself is and said boy blinks slowly at the teacher, wondering just when he'd walked over. Bokuto hadn't heard anything. Hadn't seen anything and yet he's sure he'd only had his eyes shut for a second. Maybe it had been longer than he'd realised. He knows better than anyone that time is not linear and can move strangely. Not that most people would believe him. Blinking away his own shock he gives Takeda an awkward smile and rolls his shoulders.

“Uh.. hi?” Despite his own embarrassment the Healer seems pleased with his reaction and moves away from the edge of the bed, and Bokuto’s face, nodding at the student. It’s certainly a relief, Takeda has intense eyes and he feels like the man could draw out all his secrets just by looking. Not that his secrets are anything out of the ordinary, he tries to tell himself, feeling an awkward lump at the pit of his stomach. Takeda eyes him again for a moment before shaking his head fondly.

“Sorry for startling you, I was wondering when you'd wake up, Bokuto. At least, judging from that reaction, I’d say you’re feeling better." Takeda sighs and Bokuto feels slightly bad for getting injured quite so often because he knows it must stress Takeda out. The man is too kindhearted for his own good. "Try not to get injured again, Bokuto, you do have classes to attend to.” The latter words are tacked on sternly and Takeda nods at him, his eyes fond. It tugs at Bokuto's heart strings but is enough for him to relax and he lets an easy grin slide onto his face.

“Feeling great, Takeda! Would never even know I’d been hit. Thanks for patching me up! Can I go now? I can make it in time for club right?” It’s less the club he’s worried about, though he’d be disappointed to miss it, and more the visitor he’s sure will be waiting by his window tonight.

He's is always there waiting for him after an accident like this.

Bokuto knows he can’t escape the man.

There’s seven silver dots on his left thigh that tell him this, that he cannot  _ever_  escape, that no matter where he goes, how much he learns, where he tries to hide, the man will always find him. The same easy smile on his face that he wore the first time Bokuto met him and changed his life forever will be there then too and it will be the last thing he sees. He's given up ever dreaming of trying to escape his fate.

All this he knows better than anything because he has recited it time and time again, since the day his black hair had begun to turn white. Since the day he’d turned twelve and his town had burnt down around him.

 

* * *

 

Classes have just ended and there are people bustling through the wide corridors of the Academy when Bokuto slips from the Infirmary and he isn’t shocked when the first person he finds is Akaashi. It’s always Akaashi.

They’ve been friends since his second year, when he’d run into the boy (literally) on his way to maths class in Shiratorizawa. Kuroo had been in hysterics and Bokuto had been painfully embarrassed at mowing down a poor first year at top speed. Akaashi hadn't really been fazed, more confused than anything, but had accepted Bokuto's frantic attempts at apology with ease. Four ice cream sandwiches and a tube of mascara later and Akaashi had become his closest confidant.

_(No, that’s a lie. If anyone can be called closest to Bokuto then it’s Koushi. It’s always Koushi)_

“Hey hey hey! Akaashi!” Bokuto has a way of mangling the boy’s name beyond all recognition. It's become a challenge to himself at this point, to see just how much he can fuck up Akaashi's name and all he ever gets for it is a bored look and a sigh, it means Akaashi is pleased to see him. He is proud to say he knows all Akaashi’s huffs and sighs in a way that no one else in the Academy can. With practiced ease Bokuto throws one arm around Akaashi’s shoulders but it is the younger man that leads them towards the club room.

“Good evening Bokuto-san. I see you’ve recovered from yet another stay in the Infirmary. Please, try to look after yourself.” It’s the same lecture that he gets every time he hurts himself, said with a worried tone and soft eyes that betray just how much Akaashi cares, even if his mouth says otherwise most of the time. Sometimes it makes Bokuto’s heart ache, knowing there is someone out there who cares so very much about him. Bokuto had always had a soft heart, he'd been told it time and time again and he hates the way it makes him feel. Most of the time it hurts too much to think properly about so he waves the feelings and the lecture off with an easy grin and breezy comments that he’s half sure Akaashi always sees through.

“I’m fine Akaashi! Just got too into it. You know how me and Kuroo get! Anyway, I’m the Ace and the Captain and I’d rather I got hurt than any of you guys.” Bokuto's voice fills the room as he speaks, loud and proud as always. He looks around the club room that his team is beginning to fill with a bright smile, a few of them responding to him, most are too busy glancing through their homework and their equipment. Everyone used to Bokuto and his antics. Bokuto doesn’t mind, they’re all here and with him and that’s good enough. It’s enough. Akaashi snorts besides him.

"That's exactly why we don't want you hurt." The younger mutters besides him, voice harder than usual and Bokuto pretends that he hasn't head Akaashi speak, moving on instead.

“So, the tournament matches should be up soon.” Despite his worries about the evening that awaits him (Koushi is gonna be mad, again) it’s easy to slip into Captain mode, where all he had to worry about was the thrill of a Duel and winning. This statement draws the concentrated attention of his team, everyone excited and ready for battle. He can read it in their eyes. 

“If I’m right, and when have I not been?” This elicits a couple of hoots and calls from the other fourth years and a snort from Akaashi, because he’s been wrong plenty of times, but Bokuto doesn’t let it get to him, “We should be playing against Seijou first. Oikawa and Iwaizumi have been training their team hard, I know that, you know that. But guess what? We’ve been training harder and I know we’re going to win!” The room goes up in a cheer and Bokuto allows himself a smile that’s more of a smirk because they’ve won the Inter-Academy Tournament three years running. Winning for the fourth time won’t be easy but he knows his team can do it, if anyone can.

After that, Yukie, one of the best Defender’s the team has ever had, shakes her head fondly at him. Bokuto winks back briefly and from there she’s tugging the rest of the team into some sense of order. Bokuto may be the Captain and Akaashi his Second but Yukie knows how to get the team focused, she's a fine control over all the team. Bokuto may be able to inspire them but he's shit at getting his team to do anything when they don't want to. Sometimes he wonders if Yukie would be a better Captain, wonders if the only reason he became leader was because he's a man and she's a woman and the school is still backwards and up its ass in regards to gender bias. The team would be nothing without Yukie, a born strategist who's brilliant at drawing up duelling plans and training regimes. Bokuto is glad that they’d gotten rid of the ‘Boy’s Only’ rule on the Duelling teams, because he knows that it wouldn’t be the same without her. Kaori, the new Cross Field that Yukie had recruited is pretty great too, young and inexperienced but good with a bow and even better with her long range magic.

 

* * *

 

He’s training with Akaashi alone, again. A snort leaves him at the thought because it’s not like that’s unusual. Aces and their Second’s have to train together, have to be completely in sync and know each other inside out because one wrong move ends the duel. But still, it gives him warm, fluttery feelings when he trains alone with Akaashi, despite it being a totally normal thing to do. He hopes he can ignore those fluttery feelings forever because something tells him that acting on them would go badly. That it would end in pain and suffering, if not for him then for Akaashi. Bokuto hasn't got much time after all.

They are in a semi-circle. It is one that is perfectly familiar to Bokuto. After all it’s the same type of semi-circle they stand in whenever a Tournament match comes around and Bokuto has been playing in Tournaments for three, four years. He's been fighting for even more. The only difference now is the lack of opponent on the other side. It makes things feel even more intimate, the two of them alone together with no one else around.

Bokuto fights off the sudden urge to retch and instead begins moving through his warm up exercises, feet bare against the flat earth.

As a nervous first year he’d chosen Fukurodani Tower because he’d been told it was the best match for him. He'd been told this by his teachers and his mentors, and his friends. Told that his love of the Elements made him a perfect fit and, that, whilst Summoning wasn’t taught to first years they were sure he’d excel at that too. Bokuto had known they were right, just not wholly for the reasons they’d described. He'd known because there's silver markings on his thighs and a voice in his ear, a metaphorical hand on his shoulder wherever he goes.

( _Koushi. Koushi. It’s all about Koushi,_  a voice in his head whispers, almost sending him off balance in a way that makes Akaashi stare at him in confusion).

Lately all he can focus on is the silver haired man who’s sure to be waiting by his window. All he can see is that soft smile. 

So deceptively soft, and sweet, and innocent. Like poison wrapped up in sugar and candy. Bokuto had once read a story about a witch who made a house from gingerbread, so she could lure children close to her and then snatch them away, fattening them for food. In this case Koushi is the witch and his smile is gingerbread walls. Spices curl in the back of his throat and he feels like he'd cough out ash if he relaxed for even a moment.

Bokuto gives Akaashi a look that he’s sure isn’t as bright as his usual ones and lets out an awkward little laugh. Desperately he tries to bury his feelings and the Fire under the cold, comforting presence of the Earth. Tries to wash it away with Water and fresh breaths of Air. Even to himself he can taste the cold smoke on the back of his tongue. Akaashi just shakes his head, like he knows Bokuto is in pain, when he really doesn’t understand the half of what Bokuto is going through. Bokuto wishes he could tell him. The words are on the tip of his tongue but Akaashi's voice cuts through his desires like a knife.

“Bokuto-san, maybe you should rest for today.” Is all Akaashi says, never prying, never asking. Sometimes Bokuto wishes that he was more curious, that he asked what was wrong, because then he could spill all his secrets and it wouldn’t be so much his own fault. He wouldn't feel so terribly guilty for unloading because Akaashi would have asked. It’s never going to happen though, because Akaashi is too perfect for his own good and he never pries, always gives Bokuto just what he needs, stability and support.

For once he concedes with a blank nod, because the Earth that he’s used to feels just like dirt beneath his feet (there’s a difference, he knows. The difference is magic.) He knows that practising like this would be useless.

“Maybe you’re right Akaashi.” His voice is cold and tastes like Fire, smoke, like burning incense at the dawn of winter. He knows with startling clarity, in that moment, that there is a figure waiting at the top of Fukurodani Tower where Bokuto’s room sits. He knows that the figure is waiting for him.

“I’m gonna go, go rest Akaashi. Make sure the team trains.” Everyone knows there are days like this, when Bokuto becomes quiet and withdrawn and no-one really knows why. They blame it on a ‘traumatic past’ (which is true, partially) and only Bokuto knows that the reason is a silver haired Demon who shouldn’t exist, who’s bound to Bokuto, has been for five years now.

A silver haired Demon who will take joy in devouring his soul.

 


	2. Burn Down the Past

There’s something heavy in his stomach as he makes his way through the Academy halls, footsteps barely making a thud on the stone flooring despite the fact he’s put his shoes back on. It seems almost out of place but he finds that the dread he has long come to associate with Sugawara has, in the last year, begun to fade. Instead there’s just a strange sort of acceptance and something akin to fondness whenever he thinks of Suga. Bokuto had thought that as his contract came closer and closer to its inevitable end that he would become more anxious and more afraid of the Demon. For some reason the effect has been the opposite. Perhaps it is because the secrets have become harder, darker, and more dangerous over the year and Koushi is the only one he can confide in. Is the only one who knows just what Bokuto is hiding.

Maybe he has just become older. That thought scares him for some reason, because Bokuto had never planned on becoming old. Not with a seven-year lease on his life and the clock tick-tocking down with ever second.

At twelve he’d been a child, a child who’d made a contract with a Demon, and he’d known then that his life had become somewhat shorter than average. So he’d never entertained the thought of growing older, more mature. But even in short amounts of time people change and Bokuto had changed far more quickly than most. Trauma is ageing after all and Bokuto is rushing to his destiny with a clock in his head, telling him to do it fast.

_Seven years_ , his mind helpfully reminds him, and five of those are already over. Time is running out and he feels like he is moving slower than ever. If he remembers his dates right (and of course he does) then he won’t even finish his schooling in the Academy before everything that makes him Bokuto ceases to exist. He wonders if he will ever have his first kiss, a date, wonders if he will do all the things normal teenagers dream of, or will his life be over with nothing more than the sigh of teachers who mourn the loss of a prodigy.

The train of thought is as depressing as it’s ever been and Bokuto allows himself a small, full body shake as he reaches his room.

As Captain of Fukurodani’s Deulling team he has a few privileges that he’s come to enjoy, even if he’s only had them a few weeks. A room to himself for his fourth year is one such privilege, though Bokuto wonders if he can truly call it that, at times. When he’s exhausted it’s nice to be able to sleep in silence, without the snoring of four other boys, and when he’s stressed the lack of chattering voices and screeching laughter is relaxing. Most other time’s he wishes there were other people around, because then Koushi wouldn’t be able to sit and wait for him like this.

Bokuto can taste the Demon as soon as he opens the door. It’s the taste of sulfur and fire in the air, a taste he’s come to recognize as Koushi. And Koushi is here just for him. No matter what he can always taste the acrid burning before he sees or hears Sugawara. It’s somewhat comforting because Bokuto knows he will always have a heads up on whether there’s a Demon waiting for him.

Still, it seems strange to say that he can _taste_ the Demon, and he thinks, briefly, that if he ever told anyone that they’d laugh long and hard at him before they arrested him for treason. All known information on Demon’s notes them as masters of disguise and concealment. They certainly (according to such research) can’t be noticed by something as simple as a taste in the air.

_You haven’t been haunted by one for half a decade, though_ , is the common response Bokuto has to those thoughts. Is the response he’d give anyone who said such things to him. Not that he’d ever have the chance. He’d surely be dead before he got the chance to discuss Demon physiology and traits with someone.

Perhaps it is just because he knows Koushi so well. After all, being followed by anyone, by anything, for five years will make you aware of all their secret habits, all their nuances. Things about them that they themselves might not know. Koushi might be a Demon but like everything in their world he still leaves a footprint of himself wherever he goes, and Bokuto has learnt to recognize it even if others don’t. For him it’s a matter of his life. He wonders what his footprint is like.

Something tells him that Fire plays a role and it makes him sick. He’s startled from his thoughts when someone speaks.

“Good evening,  _Bokkun_.”

The voice comes from the large, bay window and after a moment golden, owl-like eyes raise to meet it. Sugawara Koushi is every bit as ethereal and occult as the day Bokuto met him, he hasn’t aged a day in the last five years. Hasn’t changed a bit. Once, Bokuto had been terrified of him, and rightly so. Now he’s less intimidated by the air that seems to surround the Demon. The nickname still sends a shudder down his spin though. Koushi is the only one who’s ever used it; he thinks he will always associate the name with the Demon. Right up until the day he dies by Sugawara’s own hand.

These thoughts must show on his face somehow, maybe in the curl of his lip or the furrowing of his brow, because Sugawara gives a laugh that is almost angelic (and isn’t that just _perfect_ ) and he settles into a more relaxed pose. Bokuto wonders if the action is supposed to relax him too. It never works. He knows too much about the power contained in that slender body to ever let his guard down around the Demon. There is always a slight tense to his shoulders, despite the fact that Sugawara is bound to him until their contract ends and shall not, cannot hurt him. Bokuto knows all of this and yet he is still on guard, ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

Because after all, being forbidden to do something doesn’t mean the desire isn’t there.

“I heard” Suga starts, as if he doesn’t keep track of Bokuto’s every movement “that you got hurt yesterday. You know I don’t like it when you get hurt.” Koushi sounds every bit the sympathetic parent, perhaps the concerned spouse, enough that it would fool an outsider. Bokuto is sure that only he can hear the thinly veiled threat beneath those words, the hint of poison that drips off Koushi’s tongue. Despite this he just smiles back, bright and easy, and gives Sugawara a shrug.

It seems that the man has begun to wear off on him.

Perhaps one of these days someone will realise Bokuto is something less than human himself. ( _More than human, better, he’ll be better until no one can even reach him_ ). That he has been shaped and changed by circumstance and by influence until he has begun to resemble the predator that hunts him.

Until he begins to become the predator himself. Unbeknownst to Bokuto, Suga is a twisted type of proud.

“Mm, just an accident, it wasn’t anything to worry about, Sugawara-san.”

Two can play at the game of frustrating nicknames. Koushi has insisted on being called ‘Koushi’ or ‘Suga’ for years, hating the formality of his proper title, but Bokuto refuses to bend on this issue. He will only refer to the Demon as such in his own private thoughts. It gives him just the slightest bit of power in the relationship, stops him from breaking under the pressure.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Koushi’s eye twitch minutely and he adds himself a tally on his imagined chart of ‘wins’. It’s a pointless endeavor really. A pointless victory. In the end Koushi will always win the war no matter how many battles Bokuto triumphs in. Bokuto may be a prodigy but Koushi is the master, the king, the emperor and as he is now Bokuto could never overthrow him.

 “I thought that I’d taught you better Bokkun. I thought I’d taught you how to _win_.”

 

* * *

 

Bokuto is twelve years old and his town has just burnt around him until there’s nothing but ashes and smoke left. The wooden houses he’s grown up in and around are nothing but piles of embers, orange and grey on the floor. The day had been sunny, cool but bright as Autumn had begun to roll in but now all Bokuto can see are specks of dust and cinders in the air. It smells like death and loss and he knows he won’t ever forget the taste of fire on his tongue.

It is his fault. He knows that.

The death of these people (his friends, his neighbours, his  _family_ ) had been his chrysalis. A step on the staircase that he just had to climb. A transitional state so he could become powerful. More powerful than anyone that he’d ever known. So that no one could hold him back ever again. The thought makes him feel sick to his stomach, he wants to throw up and add to the stench around him. He wonders if people had known that he had caused the blazing fire, whether they’d cursed and blamed him for it. Whether they’d accepted and forgiven. Bokuto will never know what his town had thought as they’d died. All he knows is that it is his fault and he cannot ever change that.

He knows all of this because there is a hand, large and cold and tight, clutching at his thin shoulder. The touch ground him in reality, reminds him that the devestation is not a simple nightmare. And the hand belongs to a Demon. A Demon with silver hair, a soft, a kind smile. One who had promised him the world in exchange for his soul. Who’d promised him power in exchange for the lives of his loved ones. A Demon who’d guided him to murder so he could realise his full potential.

Who’d shown him exactly what it meant to win.

 

* * *

 

“You know I can’t do that.” It is a strain to keep his voice steady as he speaks, the memory of that night making him feel ill. Bokuto thinks back to the duel he’d had with Kuroo a night ago, thinks about how easy it would have been to kill him. He’d always been someone that easily made friends and connections, but there are only two people ( _three, really_ ) that he truly values. Who he would call himself close to. Akaashi Keiji and Kuroo Tetsurou mean the world to Bokuto and they have no idea. More than anything he wants to keep them safe, keep Koushi away from them. The last people he’d loved had become fodder to teach Bokuto how to be ruthless, how to kill. He never wants to go through that again.

“I can’t afford to get kicked out of school.” Is his excuse instead, and it makes Koushi’s lips curl, the start of an annoyed frown forming on his face. The Demon had never approved of Bokuto studying at a human school, never approved of the rules and constraints that a formal education came with. In most cases Bokuto would have agreed with him, even if he loved the Academy and all its people, but he had a mission to succeed at here. The Academy was his ticket to the big boys and so he couldn’t get caught.

“Don’t look at me like that, Sugawara-san. I need somewhere to eat, and sleep, and learn. You know that here is better than scavenging on the streets. Plus, you might be able to teach me a lot of things but even you admit that there’s secrets this place has. Thing you don’t know.” The argument is one they’ve had hundreds of times, it makes Bokuto relax a little.

Suga gives him a snort in response, settling more comfortable into the window seat as he watches Bokuto.

“I don’t have a problem with you staying at your _precious_ school, Bokkun. I just don’t understand why you won’t show them your all. I gave you power and yet you insist on hiding your true nature behind seals and glamours. You could be so much more.” In many ways Koushi is right, but he has more than one reasons for attending the Academy in particular. There are many magic schools throughout the country but Bokuto had forced his way into one of the most prestigious. It only makes sense to stand out, but being too perfect would only give him unwanted attention for all the wrong reasons.

“I use what I can, Sugawara-san. You know that if I used your spells, your Demon magic, that they’d catch me and dispose of me without a second thought. I need to say here as long as it takes. I can’t do that if I’m, y’know…” Bokuto draws a finger across his throat, as if slitting it with a knife. Despite his fears of dying he knows being caught using Demon magic would likely leave him with a far worse fate.

Being dead would be a far better alternative to having his Magic drained and his sould all but destroyed. Bokuto would kill himself be letting that happen.

Koushi sighs but relents at his statement, running sharp, black nails (talons, more like) through his locks. After a moment he gestures for Bokuto to come closer. It is a subtle order and one that Bokuto cannot refuse, because for all he despises ( _it’s a lie, he can’t hate Koushi, he wishes he could_ ) Sugawara they are bound together at the soul. There is a connection that Bokuto can’t ignore. As much as Koushi belongs to him, he belongs to Koushi. They belong to each other.

“I’ll forgive you for getting hurt then, my little owlet.” Another nickname. Koushi has a whole arsenal of them, some more embarrassing than others. Bokuto fights the urge to sigh when a hand begins to run through his own, the action sure to stain more of his hair the same silver as Koushi’s own.

“Do try to refrain from getting injured though. I worry that we will not complete our task if you do. And what a shame that would be.” Sugawara keeps his motions gentle, soothing, but there is a hard, threatening tone in his voice.

What a shame indeed.

Bokuto finds himself pulling away, feeling dread pool in the pit of stomach as he does so. “You should go, if that’s all you wanted. I have work to do and staying here is dangerous for you. Dangerous for us.” It’s the truth, but for some reason it feels like a lie on his tongue. Bokuto almost feels bas as he tries to send Suga away. Koushi can only do as told with such a direct order but he gives Bokuto an odd look before he vanishes, silent. The only reminded of his presence is a thin circle of ash on the window seat where he’d been sat. The room feels too empty, too quiet without him.

It tastes like dust and air and nothing else.

 

* * *

 

Bokuto is half asleep at his desk, having done little work for the past hour, when the door to his room is nudged open. Despite the stranger’s relative silence as they’d come up the stairs the old oak creaks loudly at the slightest touch. It seems natural to most but Bokuto had charmed it that way specifically.

A tiny warning sign.

Still, he’s not expecting the sound and it startles him enough that he just about falls out of his chair. Bokuto pouts when he notices Kuroo standing in his doorway, righting himself in his chair. He’s about to complain but the surprise washes away into a grin when he notices the box of ring donuts in Kuroo’s hand. Food is definitely the way to Bokuto’s heart.

“Hey Bo! Heard you were up and about, well mostly, so I thought I’d bring you some snacks. Sorry for knocking you onto your ass for nearly a day.” Kuroo’s voice is smooth and he laughs lightly as he teases Bokuto about his loss. Bokuto sticks his tongue out in return before both of them laugh and Kuroo saunters into Bokuto’s room with ease, as if he’d been there hundreds of times before. It’s impossible because Kuroo is from Nekoma and Bokuto has only had the room a few weeks (since term started in October) but he’d glad Kuroo is comfortable enough to walk in like this. It reminds him of how much Kuroo really cares.

It makes him feel loved.

“Finally bro. Was wondering when you’d turn up with these.” The treats are a bit of a ritual between the two of them, something the winner of a duel would gift to the loser so they could both laugh and relax. Though, usually it isn’t a whole twelve pack of donuts. Bokuto assumes that it’s because of the severity of his injury. That, or Kuroo is just spoiling him for once. The former seems more likely.

“Oo, gimme a chocolate one.” He wonders what it would mean if Kuroo was just spoiling him, wonders how that would make him feel. He supposes that if it were true he should feel happy. Instead all the idea fills him with is dread. It is high time to distract himself with donuts, Bokuto decides.

Soon enough they are both sat on his bed and Bokuto had chocolate smeared on his hands and around his mouth, always the messy eater. Kuroo slings a hand around his shoulder and Bokuto tells himself that Kuroo is just being friendly. It’s just the two of them being bros. Kuroo is talking next to him, telling him stories about the lessons that Bokuto had missed that day, and he loses himself in Kuroo’s tales, shaking away all his stupid feelings and thoughts. Kuroo doesn’t seem to notice, if he does, he doesn’t say anything and for that Bokuto is glad.

“What happened in Ukai’s class then?” Bokuto asks after a moment, grinning when Kuroo flings an arm out dramatically.

“You’d never fucking guess. So we get into combat class, same as every week and I’m like, alright, this is going to be boring without Bo to mess around with, but I was fucking wrong. Y’know Azumane, Karasuno’s Attacker, he’s usually so quiet, but today he just lost it at the sight of this spider. I mean, the thing was huge, easily as big as my hand. Magic, obviously. Still, I’d never have pegged a big dude like Azumane to get so freaked out by a spider!” Kuroo gasps for breath, stopping the story for a second so the both of them can laugh. Bokuto has to be slapped on the back a few times after almost choking on a bit of unchewed donut and there are tears leaking out of his eyes. It takes minutes for them to calm down. When the hilarity wears off they take a few sharp breaths before Kuroo runs a hand through his permanent bedhead and grounds himself enough to continue.

“Anyway, the class was in hysterics Bo. I thought coach was gonna pop a vein in his forehead he looked so done with our shit. It was boring once the spider was gone though.”

“I can’t believe I missed it, what the fuck. It sounds amazing bro. All the good shit happens when I’m knocked out. And I didn’t even get to practice because Akaashi kicked me out of the Duelling arena. Today sucked man.” The pout that comes onto Bokuto’s face is genuine and he only squeaks a little when he feels Kuroo’s thumb on his lips, wiping away the expression as well as melted chocolate.

“Dude! You are such a mum. Almost as bad as ‘Kaashi.” The words sound petulant and Bokuto can feel his cheeks and ears heating up as he flushes pink. Kuroo snorts in the background for a moment before giving him a serious look, resting his chin in one, large palm.

“You rarely skip Duelling practice Bo. ‘Specially with the Tournament so close to starting. Akaashi must have been worried to kick you out.” Bokuto can’t find it in himself to say that he’d gone easily because he knows it will only make Kuroo frown even more. He doesn’t like seeing such a serious look on his face. He wants Kuroo to be happy, he is after all his best friend (just his best friend, Bokuto reminds himself) so he brushes the concern off.

“Probably just got told to keep me off for a few days after you beat my ass so thoroughly. Gotta keep the Ace safe after all!” Bokuto flexes and grins but Kuroo still doesn’t look convinced. He decides that if lying won’t work then distraction will have to do, and shoves a donut into Kuroo’s mouth, watching the serious look crumble as he sputters.

“What the fuck bro?!” Kuroo has icing smeared over his lips but he looks relaxed again which is good.

Bokuto can’t tell Kuroo the truth. Can’t risk everything he’s worked for in the last five years of his life for one boy. It doesn’t change the fact that he wants to, doesn’t change the fact that he wishes he could

 

* * *

 

Bokuto is eleven years old and there are claws in his chest, in his stomach, in his eyes and his legs. There are bruises on his thighs and his stomach, blood covering him like a blanket. He can feel the beast ripping him apart in secret, promising him no one will ever have to know.

_No one has to know. It can be our, little, secret._

The pages beneath his hands are old, he just wants the pain to stop. If only he was better, stronger, more powerful, this wouldn’t happen. There is something inside him that hungers for any solution. He wishes he were older, that someone would help him, would save him.

When golden eyes open again they fall on a name.

_Sugawara Koushi, Fire Starter._

It’s almost like Fate had planned it but Bokuto has long given up on the idea of destiny.

 


	3. Alone in the Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto has always been a firm believer that people shouldn’t awake before sunrise. No matter what other people tell him he knows that its unnatural and tries not to do it himself. If they want to be up and tired in the dark, then that’s their choice.

Bokuto has always been a firm believer that people shouldn’t awake before sunrise. No matter what other people tell him he knows that its unnatural and tries not to do it himself. If they want to be up and tired in the dark, then that’s their choice.

So when he wakes up and the morning air is still dark and cold, illuminated only by watery moonlight through his window – well, he’s unnerved. It’s late October and even under his thick blankets he can feel the chill of the room raising goose bumps on his arms. Everything is so quiet and still, it’s the opposite of everything Bokuto seems to embody that he can’t bring himself to move or make a sound, hearing only his own breathing.

It feels wrong.

Even in the middle of the night the Academy always has something going on, he’s never awoken to such strange silence before.  He tells himself that he’s just being stupid, worrying over nothing, but he can’t shake the feeling from his bones. For the first time in years he feels genuinely afraid, it throws him back to old memories he’d rather forget.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s raining outside, has been for hours now, and it’s cold and dark in his room, Bokuto is eleven and he’s deathly afraid. He’s just waiting the hear the footsteps outside his door, he’s terrified that _he_ will be back tonight, just like every other night. Waiting until it’s too late for anyone else to be awake.

Bokuto knows the circles under his eyes have gotten deeper, his parents keep telling him to go to bed earlier but they don’t know. It makes Bokuto want to cry because he can’t tell them.

He can still feel the rune on his tongue and it burns every time he even tries to speak.

Bokuto hates being afraid, hates feeling so helpless and alone, especially when the night is so quiet and still. More than anything he wishes he was stronger, that his power could do more than just set candles on fire. He hates _him_ and he hates himself.

When he hears the floorboards outside creaking he bites back hot tears and does his best to switch off. It hurts less when he’s lifeless.

 

* * *

 

 

Bokuto barely notices that he’s hyperventilating, that he’s stone still in his bed and as white as a sheet. He doesn’t feel the hot tears running down his cheeks as he sits there, unable to get his lungs to work properly.

Magic sparks in the air around him, it is hot, burning and electrified, making all his hairs stand on end (at least he won’t have to style his hair in the morning, a hysterical part of his brain supplies). Static seems to crackle in his ears and it fills the silence of the room, covering it with white noise that makes his head ache. Bokuto is so achingly alone, no matter how much he tries he can’t feel the Academy around him. Everything feels like ruins and tastes like smoke and he wishes he had a home to go to.

“Bokkun…?”

There is a moment where everything stops and all Bokuto can focus on his Koushi’s voice. It’s not the same words but the tone is that same, soothing one from before. Bokuto lets out the ragged breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and looks up at the Demon, hates the sympathetic look on his face but needs it more than anything. It’s been years since Bokuto had felt this unstable and Suga had been there every time. He’s not sure if that’s comforting or embarrassing.

“I… I’m alright.” Coming back to himself Bokuto notices that he’s burnt the delicate skin on the palms of his hands and wrists. The bed sheets are also blackened. The eerie silence from before seems to have broken and he pushes it to the back of his mind, determined to ignore it. Bokuto has had enough of being terrified in his lifetime. Logically he knows he should tell Suga, should find out what had happened, but he’s too damn scared and too proud to show it.

Instead he just smiles weakly at Koushi and shakes his head.

“…If you say so.” The Demon doesn’t sound convinced; in fact, he sounds the complete opposite. But Koushi doesn’t press the issue and for that Bokuto is thankful. Instead he just takes burnt palms gently in his own and sighs, giving Bokuto an exhausted look.

“Look at you. If you used your full power more often this wouldn’t happen. I can’t heal these; they’re bewitched by your own magic. They’ll heal in their own time.” Bokuto doesn’t say anything, just stares down at his sore, aching hands and blinks away the residual tears.

“We just need to redo the seals. It’ll be fine.” He says after a moment, almost surprised at the apathy in his own voice. So lifeless and dead.

Bokuto can’t remember which personality is more true. Is he the cheerful, popular, prodigy student? Or is he the broken kid turned weapon?

Some strange amalgamation of the two?

Bokuto lets out a heavy sigh. The closer he gets to his goal the harder things become. It’s expected but at the same time it’s driving him towards the edge. He feels like he’s going to shatter all over again, any second now.

Suga sighing in response to his words drags him out of his thoughts and Bokuto gives him a serious look. He knows that Koushi has never liked the seals but what other choice does Bokuto have? The last time he’d used his full power (almost two years ago now) he’d nearly flattened an entire forest. The memory makes him wince. The seals are a necessary precaution, at least until he meets the final boss.

“You know we have to.” Bokuto murmurs, about to drag his shirt off then and there. The seals on his back are ghostly, almost invisible. To normal eyes like his they are. Koushi can just about see them, if he tries. They are covered in thick layers of glamours, hiding them from everyone around him. Unlike traditional seals they are in the shape of large, black wings.

Sometimes they ache, like they want to sprout out of his back and solidify. On those days, Bokuto wonders what it would be like to fly. ( _Freedom_ , a voice says, _flying would be like freedom_ ).

“Of course I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Koushi sounds disgruntled and the sound draws a snort from Bokuto. Sometimes Bokuto thinks that they are like oil and water but that’s not quite right. After all, both of them can set the world ablaze when they need to.

They sit in silence for a moment, some strange mixture of awkward and comfortable. Bokuto is the exact opposite of tired, he wonders if it has to do with the left over magic and adrenaline running through his veins.

He does his best to ignore the underlying lust to destroy everything around him, the innate violence that bubbles under his skin on days (or in this case, nights) like these. Bokuto is trembling, but he doesn’t notice it, too caught up in himself. Truthfully he wants to make someone hurt, make them feel the same pain he felt.

Koushi breaks the silence with a heavy sigh, shifting to sit closer to Bokuto. Warmth seems to radiate off him, even after all this time Bokuto can’t tell whether Koushi really is just hot all the time, or if it’s something to do with their magic and souls. He’s never bothered asking.

“Do you want to go out?” Koushi asks after a moment and Bokuto knows exactly what he’s implying, he wants Bokuto to hunt, to kill. It’s not the first time Koushi has asked, Bokuto has yet to say yes but every time the urge to agree seems just a bit stronger than before. As if it would be easier and easier to let go, to give in to that rage and hate and anger ( _it’s not like it’d be the first time_ his thoughts remind him and Bokuto shudders).

Bokuto shakes his head silently, not trusting himself to speak. Instead he just lets himself rests against Koushi, exhausted and still a little scared. It isn’t like Koushi is any better than any other evil out there, but at least he’s an evil Bokuto knows and can control. At least he seems kind.

When he feels Koushi’s nails begin to drag through his hair Bokuto sighs, eyes drifting shut. He knows that when morning comes Koushi will be gone but for now, for now it’s nice to let himself fall asleep whilst he still feels warm and safe, pushing all his worries to the back of his mind. The Demon is a steady weight against his side, and Bokuto isn’t sure when he falls asleep, just that he does.

 

* * *

 

 

Bokuto wakes up and it’s morning, watery Autumn sunshine filtering through his windows. The first thing he notices is that he’s alone, duvet and blankets tucked around him to keep him warm. It is still early of course but a reasonable time, he feels safe and content. Annoyed that he’s going to have to get up for classes but excited too. People don’t expect him to enjoy school but he wouldn’t be at the Academy if he was a slacker.  

The next thing he notices is the eye-watering ache and sting of his sore hands, the moment he tries to move them it feels like agony and Bokuto is gritting his teeth to stop himself from crying out. For a few minutes he just lays there, curling and uncurling his fingers as he fights the urge to cry. Eventually he has to get up though, and he has to act normal, has to go to classes and make it through the day without breaking down because he can’t afford to stand out like that.

It takes a few, painstaking moments before he can force himself up, jaw clenched, but he does it. Bokuto reminds himself that he can do this, that he has worked through worse than this before. So what if he wants to scream? He can grin and bear it for today, for as long as it takes. It takes barely a moment to cast the complex glamours on his hands, making sure he looks the same as always, even if he doesn’t feel it. Good as new, right?

He can’t bring himself to spike up his hair and style it properly though. Even looking at the mess atop his head makes him want to cry. It’s been years since he wore it down but today is going to have to be the exception, Bokuto thinks, spelling it clean and mostly healthy before brushing it, the locks thick and wavy now they aren’t half fried. Bokuto knows more beauty spells than he cares to admit but even so he won’t dare try spiking it with magic, he can remember what that mess had come out like and it wasn’t a look he wanted to repeat.

By the time he’s dressed and ready they’ve already begun serving breakfast and Bokuto plasters his biggest grin onto his face as he walks down to the cafeteria. He hopes it doesn’t look to fake, even though he can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes every time he moves his hands.

 

* * *

 

 

Kenma and Kuroo and Akaashi are already sat at their usual table, Bokuto is glad that he’s always late because it means that, like always, his food is already at the table. He’s just not sure how he’s going to eat it. Kuroo hoots as he sits down, throwing an arm around his shoulders. It feels familiar and comforting, Bokuto laughs lightly in response. Akaashi gives them both a sharp look that warms his stomach and makes him want to preen, even though that would just annoy him more. He squashes these ideas down, deciding it is easier, and better, if he’s just stupid with Kuroo instead.

“Seems our sleepy owl is finally up! Look we got someone new.” Kuroo points over at Kenma and Bokuto blinks, wondering how he hadn’t noticed the ginger boy sat next him. Then again, the boy is pretty small.

Bokuto still thinks it’s strange he hadn’t noticed the kid, the bright hair is a dead giveaway, he sticks out like a sore thumb with a mess like that on his head. A voice that sounds strangely like Akaashi tells him that he shouldn’t be judging someone based on hair, considering his own, awful dye job.

(Not that it’s really dye, but better to let them all think so).

“Meet Kenma’s new shrimp, this is Hinata.” There is a familiar, teasing glint in Kuroo’s eyes as he introduces the boy and Bokuto wonders just what he’s said that’s going to annoy the kid.

“Don’t call me shrimp! And I’m not Kenma’s, I don’t belong to him. We’re just friends!” Ah, there it is. There is a fierce glare on the boy’s face, Bokuto thinks it makes him look a bit like a tiny, angry kitten. For a moment he can’t place where he knows the name Hinata but then it hits him. Karasuno. The new aces. He can’t resist grinning and leaning over towards him, slapping a hand on his thigh. Of course he immediately regrets this decision, but he manages to keep the high squeak of pain from coming out.

“You’re from Karasuno right?” If his voice sounds more pitchy than normal, then it isn’t his fault. Almost immediately Hinata goes from squabbling with Kuroo to beaming and nodding excitedly, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

Bokuto decides that he likes this kid, then and there.

“Yup! I’m new on the duelling team! You’re Fukurodani’s captain right?” Hinata is grinning as he speaks, almost bouncing in his seat. When Bokuto nods his whole personality seems to shift though, just quick enough for Bokuto so see the hint of darkness in his eyes. “I’m going to crush you, Bokuto-san!” As quick as it comes its gone and Bokuto is left wondering if he’d just made it up.

His confusion over Hinata means that Bokuto doesn’t notice the curious and worried look that Kuroo shoots him over the table.

“You’re not gonna beat me that easily! I’m the strongest Ace in this Academy!” Bokuto boasts to Hinata, whining when Kuroo slaps him around the side of his head, lightly but with enough force to make Bokuto jump. Then again, a lot of things make him jump, so maybe it wasn’t that hard at all.

Kuroo snorts and leans over to smack Hinata on the back, giving Bokuto a filthy grin. It’s a look that Bokuto tries to ignore as much he can because he knows it’s going to show up in his dreams if he doesn’t.

“Don’t listen to this stupid owl, he’s not shit. I’ve knocked him on his ass more times than I care to count.” Hinata looks between them both with wide eyes, they’re a strange shade of amber and Bokuto can’t help staring for a moment. They feel almost familiar but he can’t figure out why.

After a moment, he has a startling realisation that they’re the same, preternatural colour as his own.

Kenma snaps him out of his thoughts when he snorts at Kuroo and tugs Hinata close, whispering in his ear. It’s strange because Kenma is rarely that close with them, and he’s known Bokuto and Akaashi years, Kuroo half his life. Snuggling up with some random second year that they’ve never met before is strange.

Still, even if he has suspicions about Hinata he seems nice enough, sweet and energetic and much like Bokuto himself. Perhaps he’s just projecting. Everyone else seems comfortable enough around him, they don’t seem to recognise anything odd, so Bokuto tells himself he’s being an idiot and brushes away the feelings. They’re just leftover feelings from last night. Hinata is just a kid.

They’re still chatting and talking shit to each other when the bell goes, startling them all, he’d say it was sudden and unexpected but it goes at the same time every day during the week. Bokuto realises he’d gotten away without touching a single thing on his breakfast tray as they all stand. It almost seems like a miracle. Still, he knows he’s going to miss the food within the next hour.

 

* * *

 

 

Bokuto is in agony. He’s glad that he doesn’t write a lot of notes usually because no one looks at him strangely when all he does is stare at his books but every so often he has to pick something up or move his hands and then the pain flares up all over again. He wonders if he has time to run back to his rooms and does himself up on painkillers but he knows if he does he’ll be out of it for the rest of the day.

He thanks any and every god there is that today is mostly mundane classes, things like history where he can just switch off. Kuroo shoots him strange looks every so often, wondering why he seems so lax today, but Bokuto decides that if he asks then he’ll just blame it on lack of sleep.

It’s not really a lie and that consoles him.

After all, Bokuto learnt a long time ago that lying to Kuroo is almost impossible. Afterall Kuroo isn’t in Nekoma for nothing. His friend might not be amazing at seeing the future but his Sight gives him perception like no other. It’s a shame, Bokuto thinks dramatically, that Kuroo deigns to use his gift to be an asshole and annoy everyone around him.

Bokuto can remember many times when he’d tried to tell Kuroo a little white lie, only to have it thrown back in his face. Never anything cruel, but embarrassing people is what Kuroo does best. Even so he always feels bad when he goes too far. Bokuto has seen him be mean, he has also seen him quietly apologising to those he’s truly upset. It makes his heart flutter when he realises how sweet Kuroo can actually be.

Still, he knows better than to outright lie to the man by now.

Half-truths are the best way to go when he’s trying to deceive Kuroo. Not that he wants to lie to his friend, but Bokuto has too many secrets to ever be open.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s not sure how he’s going to last the rest of the day. It’s only lunchtime and he’s crouched in the upper floor toilets that no one ever uses, crying from the pain. Bokuto knows it’s worse because he’s been ignoring it all day, acting as if nothing was wrong and now it hurts even more than before. All he can do is slump against the bathroom wall and fight off the urge to cry.

So absorbed in his own pain Bokuto doesn’t even notice when the door opens, doing his best to muffle tiny sobs. He startles when a hand brushes through his sweat damp hair. When he looks up he expects to see Koushi stood above him but the figure that’s found him is far different.

Kenma has warm brown eyes and two toned, black and golden hair. He’s short and sweet and reminds him little of Suga. Bokuto doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or awful that it isn’t Koushi, so he just screeches at Kenma instead, flushing dark red almost as soon as the sound leaves his mouth.

At least, he tells himself, Kenma looks just as shocked as Bokuto feels when the pitched sound leaves him.

“Maybe I should have expected that reaction.” After a moment Kenma slides to the floor next to him, giving Bokuto a serious look that makes him want to quiver lightly. As much as he loves Kenma he’s always been scared around him. Not because Kenma is a cruel person, he might be cold at times but he’s as sweet as they come, really. It’s the eyes. The Sight. Most people don’t realise just how much Kenma knows but Bokuto has an inkling, even if it’s just derived from what Koushi has told him.

Kenma knows far more than he lets on and Bokuto worries about how much knowledge Kenma has of him way more than he should. Times like this just make his paranoia worse.

A tired sigh draws Bokuto’s attention.

“You’re hurt. I can understand why you didn’t tell Kuroo but not telling Akaashi… me?” Kenma has piercing eyes, the kind that seem to look straight through you. It’s the one thing that reminds him of Koushi when he looks at Kenma. Bokuto swallows and hangs his head a little.

“I was embarrassed.” Another half-truth, after who wants to admit they’d lost control of their own magic? There is only silence in response and Bokuto waits only a few moments before looking up at Kenma again, hot tears of pain beginning to roll down his cheeks when he accidentally brushes his raw hands against his trousers.

Kenma manages to sigh without making a sound. It’s visible in the look he sends Bokuto alone.

“Why haven’t you healed them?” It should be a question that makes him nervous but instead he almost feels relieved. If Kenma doesn’t know why they’re unhealed, he doesn’t know what’s caused the injury.

“…. can’t.” Is all Bokuto says after a moment, biting on his lower lip with a sigh. He isn’t about to elaborate but Kenma’s blank stare and raised eyebrow tells him he isn’t going to take that one word for an answer.

“I’m not good enough at healing...?” Even to himself the words sound like a question, as if he isn’t really sure he means them. Bokuto is an expert at lying, he’d been doing it since he was a child. Koushi had taught him all the ways it was easiest to deceive. Yet under Kenma’s gaze it always felt nearly impossible, as if he couldn’t even get himself to lie to him.

“I know your healing magic isn’t amazing Bokuto but you could at least get them better than this.”

“I just… I had a nightmare and my magic surged. I can’t heal them.” Bokuto leaves out the Demon in his bedroom and the fact that it had been something more than a nightmare. It’s close enough to the truth.

So what if the tears in his eyes are from more than just the pain?

( _You’re so awful to all your friends_ , a voice tells him.)

( _I know_ , is the only reply he has.)

“Can I try a potion?” Kenma asks, his voice soft, and Bokuto nods. Anything would be better than this agony.

Bokuto drops his head back against the wall, in the large, now quiet bathroom the sound seems to echo. He can hear, vaguely, Kenma rattling through his bag, various glass bottles clinking together. There’s no pattern to the movements and yet it seems almost melodious. Perhaps he’s just trying to make himself feel better.

Small hands gently take his sore ones, even the slightest brush makes him wince and Kenma tuts, honest to god tuts. It actually makes Bokuto snort through the pain, letting his eyes flicker open for a moment.

“You’re an idiot Bokuto. I bet this is why you didn’t eat breakfast either, right? Don’t worry, I won’t tell _them_.” It feels like his heart stops for a moment, everything freezes, but Kenma doesn’t say anything more, just begins smeary and green paste over Bokuto’s hands, eyes narrowing a little.

“Oh, I should have asked earlier, but could you drop the glamour Bokuto. It’s easier to know where’s more affected when the injury isn’t covered.” Bokuto nods and focuses and dropping the various spells that are working around his hands, watching the burnt, blistered skin reveal itself. Only for a moment though before Kenma covers it in more green gook.

At first the mixture stings in a way that makes him want to scream but the effect doesn’t last long. Soon it turns cooling and numb, and then he can barely feel anything at all on his hands. Bokuto has never had much luck with potions, he can only really make the basics. He’s always in awe when he sees the things Kenma can make if he puts his mind to it, and the effort in.

“Thank you.” He murmurs after a moment, voice a little hoarse and throaty as he blinks away the last of the tears, watching Kenma wrap bandages around his hands. “It feels better now.” Truthfully he doesn’t know if the potion is healing his hands or just masking the pain, but at the moment he doesn’t care at all. He feels better, that’s all that matters.

Of course, he’s not sure how he’s going to go to afternoon classes like this. Another glamour, probably.

“People are right, you know, Bokuto. You should be more careful.” Logically Bokuto knows that Kenma is likely just referring to how accident he is, but the words sound too serious, too grave. He gives Kenma a strangely serious look of his own, for all of two seconds, before brushing off his concerns with (an albeit watery) laugh. Slowly pushing himself up He awkwardly wipes at his face, murmuring a few spells to wash away the tear tracks and get rid of red rimmed eyes. They’re common enough spells, usually marketed towards teen girls, which is gross, in his opinion, but at least they work on everyone.

“You guys worry too much about me. This is a prodigy school, right? We’re strong, sometimes the magic overwhelms us. Maybe I should have gone to a healer but they’re sick of me by now. I’ll be good from now on Kenma~!” Already he sounds better, voice strong and bright once more. If there’s an undertone of warning, of ‘stay out of my business’ well then it must be imagined.

Kenma is a good friend of his, after all.

He waves as he leaves the bathroom, slinging his satchel over his shoulder and giving Kenma a cheery smile.

“Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I’d do without you Kenma!” He calls back as he enters the hallway, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut that tells him he’s doing something wrong.

He’s been doing something wrong all his life, so what’s the point in stopping a habit of a lifetime?

 

* * *

 

 

Bokuto decides to eat dinner in his room. It’s an uncommon occurrence, but not one strange enough to draw questions or eyes. The only one who looks at him funny is Kenma, but he doesn’t try to stop Bokuto.

The room is empty and the quiet is oppressive, violent, like the world is trying to tell him to turn around, to surround himself with friends because after all he has no family left to support him. He ignores the warning signs surrounding him, lets himself wallow in his self-pity and hatred and anger. Let’s destruction brew in his stomach. He loves his friends, it’s one of the reasons he won’t be near them when he feels like this, because he doesn’t ever want to hurt him.

On days like this he closes his eyes and sees spirals of fire enclosing everything, sees seas of ash and dust covering the world as far as his sight can see. It might not be hell in the traditional sense, filled with tortured souls, but it is hell enough for Bokuto. The worst part is he desires it. More than anything, he wishes that he could just burn everything to the ground, just destroy it all from the outside in.

It makes him scared of himself. He wonders what he’s become.

So he doesn’t close his eyes.

Instead he unwraps his hands and eats his dinner slowly, methodically. Chewing each bite slowly, until it is nothing but mush. Reminds himself that they have practice tomorrow so he has to be better by then. For the team, for Akaashi. So that no one suspects anything.

The food tastes bland in his mouth, settles heavy like a lead weight in his stomach. Maybe that’s just the guilt.

Maybe he hates himself because he’s awful, not because awful things have happened.

Sometimes he wonders who the Demon really is, whether it’s Koushi or whether it is him. Because after all a Demon is a creature of great evil, who delights in death and sin, who delights in corruption.

But surely the truer evil is the one who summons such evil and gives it a place and presence in the mortal world.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bokuto wonders whether flames have always looked so pretty, dancing on the candlesticks, or whether they have just become that way since he’d started reading The Book. It doesn’t really have a name, so to make it important he capitalizes it in his head, because The Book is very important to him.

Since he’d found it he’d felt less scared, less alone. Less like a helpless victim to the world around him.

Sugawara Koushi is only a name, the figure he dreams up changes every time Bokuto goes to sleep, but it is the name that holds the power. Bokuto is getting stronger, getting smarter. When he can get away from _his_ watchful eyes he can find the right words, the right symbols and herbs. Soon enough his dreams would become a reality. He could get rid of _him_ and live his life in peace again.

Everything would be good.

Koushi would make sure of it, Bokuto is sure.

The pounding in his chest isn’t from fear anymore, it’s from excitement. He no longer has to drown, instead he can burn, and burn, and burn, like the brightest star in the sky.

Already, he has decided, at the tender age of eleven, that no one is going to stand in his way.

He’ll be strong for himself, even if he has to summon a Demon to do so.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this chapter took me a while to write but it's done now! All 5000 words of it :D I hope you guys like it because I had a lot of fun writing this. I do hurt poor Bokuto so much :(
> 
> You guys can find me @ kenmaboi.tumblr.com and also @ redsmoke-magichaikyuu.tumblr.com , the first one is my main blog and the second is a blog I made for notes about the story (warning, there might be spoilers in the future). Kudos and comments if you like? :D


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